


Shoot First, Ask Questions Later

by Unforth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Communication, First Kiss, Frottage, M/M, POV Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-10 01:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12901071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: After the Cup of China event, Yuri is acting weird and Victor has no idea why...This is an insert between episodes 7 and 8.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay...so...I've had this idea for a while and it makes me happy - even though I'll own it's not *super* well supported by canon so calling it a canon compliant fic might be slightly a stretch - but what if, when Victor kisses Yuri on the ice at the Cup of China, that's their first kiss? What if, in his usual impulsive way, Victor launched himself into that without so much as a prior "so we're a thing right?" and thought he could get away with it because, as he said, "this was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you've surprised me."
> 
> Well, he sure surprises the *hell* out of Yuri...but maybe not in the way he meant to...
> 
> So yeah, this is my "what if," built on that scenario...
> 
> I expect this to be around 5k words, split into two chapters, and while Chapter 1 is vanilla I *think* there will be smut in chapter 2 so I've marked the fic explicit. Plan is to write chapter 2 later today and tomorrow and get it all posted by tomorrow cause this is just me taking a mini brain vacation and I don't want to spend much time on it. :)

_Something is wrong._

“Yuri! Yakisoba for dinner?”

“I already ate.”

_He used to be like this, yes, but not recently…_

“Have you seen the gag video Chris put out? Lemme show you!”

“I saw it.”

_What changed?_

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure Mari didn’t come home last night…”

“She does that sometimes.”

_Why won’t he talk to me?_

“Minako told me the castle is lit up at night, want to go see?”

“I’m going to bed.”

_Why won’t he trust me?_

“Yuri…”

Heaving a sigh, Victor stared at the shoji screen Yuri had just slammed in his face, having flashbacks to when he’d first arrived in Japan. Then, Yuri’s behavior made sense. Victor had barged into his life, made himself at home, bullied his way into the coaching role he wanted…that Yuri had requested but then never spoken of again…and Yuri hadn’t been able to, or couldn’t, bring himself to say, _thank you Victor but I need a little time and space to process this change_. But things had been different since…

_…since our talk on the beach…_

…except now they weren’t, because…

_Think like Yuri! What changed…?_

Victor paced down the hallway, picking his brain.

_…we got back from the Cup of China two days ago…_

_…while we were there, he had a meltdown…_

_…I threatened to leave…_

_…he had a great performance…_

_…I congratulated him…_

_…maybe it was the meltdown? Yuri doesn’t like to show weakness or vulnerability…I can’t recall seeing him cry before…_

_…but he seemed fine after that…it wasn’t until after…_

_…maybe he’s feeling the pressure of coming in second? Worried about the Rostelecom Cup? Pre-emptive anxiety?_

_Or maybe he really is tired?_

“Victor.” Yuri’s voice behind him arrested his pacing. Relieved, Victor rounded only to be faced with Yuri’s shuttered expression, eyes flat, lips compressed. “Your pacing is noisy. If you want to go for a walk, go for a walk.”

“We could—”

The shoji door slammed shut again with a clatter.

Victor sighed.

Something was _definitely_ wrong.

But _what_?

* * *

 

“Sagan Tosu!” Toshiya waved a blue, pink, and white flag as he and his friends lounged around the public room at Yu-topia, the game loud in the background. Football had never appealed to Victor – he’d always preferred basketball, and sometimes hockey – but if there was a game on, there was no talking to Yuri’s father without pretending to care how the local team performed. A player from Sagan Tosu slipped, the ball careening out of control, and an opposing player in white and gray kicked it down the field. Everyone watching groaned, one woman ranting her frustration in Japanese too rapid for Victor to understand. The opposing players exchanged the ball, evading the Sagan Tosu defense, and as far as Victor could tell, nothing of interest was happening – the woman even stopped complaining. It was as good a moment as any…

“Has Yuri seemed…himself…to you?” Victor ventured.

“Of course!” Rapt, Toshiya didn’t take his eyes from the screen. “Just like he was before he moved to the US to train. “Hiroko was worried,” he added in a conspiratorial whisper that could likely be heard throughout the ryokan. “You know how Americans are. And what if he liked it there and didn’t come back? But he’s here now, and as helpful and hardworking as ever. And his skating! We’re so proud of him!”

Focus came to Toshiya’s eyes as a referee came out waving a yellow card. Cheeks were flushed, eyes watery, he turned to Victor with a wide, friendly smile.

“Thank you, Victor!” He threw himself into Victor’s arms and nearly tumbled them both to the tatami mats, Victor too startled to catch him. “You’ve helped him so much, you and Makkachin!”

_Note to self: Toshiya-san is a messy drunk._

_Just like Yuri._

_Maybe this has something to do with the banquet?_

_But Yuri never talks about that…considering how smashed he was, maybe he doesn’t remember…and maybe that’s for the better…_

“It’s my plea—”

“Goooooal!” screamed the formerly ranting woman, irritation replaced by elation. Everyone leapt to their feet, cheering, Toshiya dragging Victor with him, swaying unsteadily.

_Why did I think the Katsukis would be any help? They haven’t seen their son in five years…I need to talk to someone who has had more recent contact with him…_

* * *

 

“Oh my God, Victor! Is Yuri okay?” Concern sat unnaturally on Phichit’s usually cheerful face as he dropped into view of his webcam.

“He’s fine – why…?”

Phichit blinked. “Uh…because you called me?”

“Yes?”

“At…ten PM...?”

“It’s midnight here.”

“At _midnight_?”

“Uh huh...”

“And you’ve literally _never_ called me?”

“Right…”

“And we met for the first time like a week ago?”

“So?”

“Yuri’s dead, isn’t he. Oh my God.” Appalled, Phichit’s hands went to his face, his eyes wide and rimmed in teared.

“Yuri’s fine!” Victor reassured Phichit. “Well, I mean, he’s not _fine_ —”

“I knew it!”

“—but there’s nothing physically wrong with him,” Victor said. “He’s just…acting weird.”

Phichit blinked again, his hands dropping. “Acting…weird…?”

“Like, distant, you know?” Victor couldn’t keep his frustration from his voice. Phichit was right, they barely knew each other, and calling was an imposition, but who the heck else was Victor supposed to ask? He wasn’t about to call Celestino and listen to a lecture on proper coaching styles…

“You mean…like he always acts?” ventured Phichit.

A spark of anger burned through Victor. “That’s not true,” he snapped. “When Yuri’s _uncomfortable_ he’s aloof, but when he’s happy? He’s enthusiastic and honest and open – you know that! You _must_ know that!”

“I mean, of course…” Phichit sighed and rubbed at his temple. “But he’s usually only like that in private, with people he trusts.”

“We were in private…”

“That’s half the equation,” said Phichit dryly.

“But Yuri trusts me!”

_Does he?_

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but if his behavior’s changed, and seclusion isn’t the problem – well, take a good hard look at yourself and ask, ‘ _what might I have done to violate Yuri’s trust_?’”

“I have tried to think if it was something I did,” Victor admitted. “But I don’t…I mean, nothing springs to mind…”

“That’s all I’ve got,” Phichit said. “I’m training at 4 tomorrow so I gotta go…but…um…good chat?”

“Of course – sorry.” Victor offered a sheepish smile. “Thanks, Phichit. Good night!” Phichit gave him a grin and a wave – all’s well, all’s forgiven – and the webcam feed went blank.

 _But I thought our conversation at the Cup_ improved _our mutual trust, once he told me what was bothering him, once he confessed he was afraid I didn’t believe in him, and I was able to reassure him how much confidence I repose in his abilities…in him as a person…_

 … _but now he’s not talking to me again…_

_I don’t understand._

_…there’s got to be_ someone _who_ _understands Yuri better than I do…since clearly, I don’t understand him at all…_

 

* * *

 

“Pleeeeease, Minako?” wheedled Victor. Unmoved, Minako quirked a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Even a tiny hint?”

“Why do you think I’ve got the Katsuki Yuri cheat sheet?” she said. “I’ve known him a long time, and I could make a guess, but _you’ve_ been with him 24/7 for _weeks_. If you don’t know what’s bothering him, why should I?” She swirled clear sake around her ochoko and took a sip. Victor eyed the drink she’d poured him but refrained. Even clear-headed he had no idea what was going on – if he got drunk, he’d still be clueless _and_ he’d probably do something impulsive and stupid in an over-enthusiastic effort to fix things.

 _What, more impulsive than moving to Japan and re-introducing myself to Yuri while standing naked in his family onsen? Cause that went over_ great.

_But it was all okay in the end._

_Until it wasn’t._

Slumping back in his chair, Victor changed his mind and chugged the drink. The innocuous looking alcohol seared his throat and made his eyes pop, settled pleasantly hot in his stomach, and he set the ochoko back on the bar and dropped his arms limp to his sides.

“Alright – start from the top. When were things last fine?”

Victor closed his eyes and let the events of the past few days come to life in his mind, recalling every nuance Yuri’s behavior. It was easy to bring everything to mind. Yuri had demanded that Victor not take his eyes from Yuri, and Victor didn’t – Victor never did.

“After the short program in China,” Victor said at length. “That night he hardly slept and the next day he was…off.”

“Did anything happen that night?”

“No – we got dinner then went back to our room.”

“Our room, huh?” A suggestive lilt twisted her voice but Victor shrugged. Hotels were expensive. Sharing a room was cheap. They hadn’t shared a bed, not that Victor didn’t want to, but it was their first international competition together and while Yuri had grown comfortable with sharing an onsen, they hadn’t had a formal talk about their relationship and when he was booking accommodations Victor thought cuddling in one bed would be pushing it.

_…though pushing ‘it’ with Yuri has worked well so far…_

“But seriously, that sounds like Yuri’s usual pre-event jitters,” she continued. “He’s always been like that – I’m sure you noticed at Regionals.” Victor nodded. “So – it’s long program day…”

“…and he’s a mess,” muttered Victor.

“Did you tell him that?”

“Of course not! I tried to calm him down, and when I couldn’t…” Victor sighed, lifted his head and opened his eyes. Minako leaned over the bar, head rested on her hands as she watched him. Despite the sake she’d drunk, she was attentive, eagle-eyed in her appraisal. Victor grimaced. “I know how…personally…he takes failures so I thought, if I made it clear that if he fails, I think it’s _my_ fault, that’d help. So I told him I’d step down as his coach if his long program tanked.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“I’m sure that went over _great_.”

“He cried,” Victor scowled, unable to meet her knowing gaze. “But we talked it out. Said he just needed me to believe in him, which…I’m _here_ , I thought it was painfully obvious I believe in him! I could be doing literally _anything else_ with my time, and yet…”

“Right, but when you said you’d leave, you made him think you _wanted_ to leave, which I’m sure he’s worried about all along – Yuri probably thinks he’s ruining your career or holding you back or something, that’d be totally in character – so he got upset when he thought you’d confirmed his fears.”

“Yeah, I get that _now_ ,” muttered Victor.

“Sounds like you know exactly what’s bothering Yuri, then…” Minako offered.

“Except I don’t! We were fine after that! _He_ was fine! Calmer than I’ve seen him before any event skate, and then he did great, and even threw in that quadruple flip, and that _look_ he gave me right at the end of the skate? He could kill me with that look. He was – he _is_ – _incredible_!”

_I want him so much…in every sense of the term…and after the things he said, the things he did, I thought he…_

“So…if you think everything was fine before the skate, and after the skate, then when did Yuri get weird?”

_…but I’m an idiot, so I’ve misjudged…_

“Plane ride home,” said Victor. “Tried to hold his hand and he stared me down then leaned against the bulkhead and went to sleep.”

“Had you ever held his hand before?” Minako asked, making a show of her patience questioning.

“Well…no…”

“You’re sure his cold shoulder is about skating and coaching?” Her patience gave way to a condescending tone, as if Victor was a recalcitrant toddler.

“What _else_ would it be about?”

“Victor, you kissed Yuri on international television!”

“And?”

“You hadn’t even held his hand before?”

“I just said—”

“Had you and he kissed before?” she demanded.

“…no.”

“Had you talked to him about…that…beforehand?”

“…well, when he was crying, I _think_ I suggested I could kiss him and make it better…the whole conversation’s a little bit of a blur…”

“And did you kiss him to calm him down?”

“…no,” he sighed.

“So lemme get this straight. You’re totally baffled at Yuri’s behavior when you kissed him out of the blue in front of the entire arena and the world, when you’d never kissed him before, and he’d never been kissed by _anyone_ before?”

“ _Anyone_?”

“Wow, I knew you were an idiot but I had _no idea_.”

“That was Yuri’s _first kiss_? No – that’s impossible! He’s 24! And gorgeous! There must have been…someone…” Minako’s lips twisted with skepticism and she stared him down.

_He didn’t kiss me at the banquet…there was once or twice I thought he might, but…and if I’m right and he doesn’t remember that night then it wouldn’t matter even if he had._

No one _? He said he’d never had a significant other or a lover, but…it’s just a kiss! I’ve kissed people more passionately saying ‘hello!’ I think I even made Christophe come that one time! The kiss wasn’t a big deal!_

_…except…what if…what if it was, for Yuri?_

 “It’s possible,” Victor admitted with a groan. “But wait – does this mean he didn’t like it? I thought…”

“Go talk to him, moron,” Minako said, taking their dirty ochoko and stashing them behind the bar.

“It’s late…”

“Do you _really_ think he’ll be asleep?”

_Not a snowball’s chance in hell._

“I’ll go.”

“Atta boy. Don’t say anything stupid.”

Victor threw her a cocky smile and a thumbs up as he rose to return to Yu-topia, even as his thoughts spun dispair. He couldn’t think of a serious conversation they’d shared where he’d said the _right_ thing, at least not to begin with – how was he supposed to fix things now?

_…I’ll have to find a way, though. Yuri’s worth it._

_And so am I._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this wasn't up Monday but as you can see it got much longer than I was anticipating. Done now, though! :)

The _rap, rap, rap_ of Victor’s knuckles against the wood frame of the shoji screen was over-loud in the night-darkened hallway. Concerned about disturbing the ryokan guests, Victor glanced down the hallway, but no one stirred, no doors opened, no sounds suggested interrupted sleep.

Maybe he’d knocked _too_ softly.

_Rap, rap, rap._

No answer.

“Yuri?”

Silence hung heavy around Victor’s shoulders. He considered knocking again, but if Yuri actually was asleep…he waited and listened, checked for light creeping around the edges of the screen, searched for any sign that Yuri lingered awake, raised his hand to knock again, and finally sighed and turned away.

The _woosh_ of the door sliding open arrested him.

“What is it, Victor?”

A shiver trailed down Victor’s spine. He _loved_ the way Yuri said his name, Japanese and American accents combining to slur the V to a B sound, the R with a hint of an L, a trace of a U at the end…

_Not the moment!_

Fatigue and desire and hope froze Victor as he searched the recesses of his mind for the perfect words with which to reply.

“Of course it’s nothing,” Yuri sighed, tired, resigned. “Why did I—”

Victor spun on a heel.

“Can we talk?” Desperation seeped into Victor’s voice. Yuri stood in the doorway, hair flopped about his ears, one side of his face illuminated blue by the glow from the computer screen in the room, the other half cast into shadows. Yuri looked dejected, exhausted, so sad that Victor wanted to bundle him up and ply him with katsudon until life returned to those dull eyes and smiles to those drooping lips.

“What’s there to talk about?” Yuri replied, reaching out and grasping the lip of the screen.

Victor surged forward and got a hand on the door before Yuri could close it in his face again.

“What, because _not_ talking about…whatever this is…is going so well?”

Yuri stared at him impassively, but he didn’t pull the door shut. They stood in awkward tableau until Yuri took a slow breath and sighed it out softly.

“Fine.” Yuri stepped aside and Victor took wide strides into the small room before Yuri could change his mind. The door _wooshed_ shut behind him, the light flicked on, and Yuri dropped to sit on the edge of his bed, leaving Victor to stand or sit in the computer chair as he would.

Nerves flaring, Victor eyed the chair, took a step toward it, changed his mind, rocked back on his heels and blurted, “I’m sorry!”

“For what?” Yuri looked at him, but Yuri didn’t look _at_ him, and the difference was palpable and painful.

_…time to roll the dice and hope I’ve got this right, ‘cause something tells me he’s not inclined to be forgiving if I don’t guess right…_

_…should I have to guess? Communication is a two-way street, he could_ tell _me…_

_…that’s a conversation for another time. One we’ll never get to if I screw this up._

“Kissing you.” Victor summoned what confidence he could so the reply wouldn’t sound like a question, a guess.

Whatever reply Victor expected, it certainly wasn’t a deliberate blink followed by Yuri flopping on his bed and turning his back.

“Well, that makes everything better,” Yuri said. “I’m glad you got that off your chest. Good night.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re awfully catty when you’re pissed?” The words spilled from Victor before he could stop them.

_Stupid, impulsive, moronic…way to blow it, guess that’s my cue to leave and watch him grow even colder toward me…_

Victor took a step toward the door as Yuri rolled over and watched him through narrowed eyes.

“I’ll show myself out,” Victor muttered. Two steps took him to the door, one gesture got his hand on it, one thought reminded him that he was a fuck up at everything save skating, and—

“No,” Yuri said. Victor froze, waited, but Yuri didn’t continue. Victor turned to see Yuri sitting up again, the hint of a smile upturning one side of his mouth. “No one has ever told me that.” _What?_ “That’s I’m…catty?” _Oh, right._

“Well, you are,” grumbled Victor.

Maybe everything wasn’t ruined?

Hiding uncertainty with action, Victor grabbed the computer chair, spun it to himself, and sat heavily enough that the wooden-framed room creaked around them.

“I thought we were past the ‘cold shoulder’ stage of our relationship,” Victor continued.

“What relationship?” asked Yuri, some subtly to the question that Victor couldn’t place.

“ _Our_ relationship?” he replied, pointing between Yuri and himself.

“ _Which_ relationship?” Yuri clarified. “The one where you’re my coach? Where you’re my friend? Or the one where you kiss me out of the blue?”

_…in his mind we’re only friends?_

“All of the above?”

_…well that’s a kick to the nuts…_

“Has anyone ever told you that you deflect every attempt at a serious conversation?” Yuri imitated.

“At least I’ve _tried_ to speak with you,” Victor retorted.

“That’s not—” Yuri cut off, gathered himself in an instant – _a skater who took a fall putting a smile back on for the judges_ – and continued, “That’s fair. I’m sorry I shut you out. I… _you_ …you _confused_ me, Victor, and I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing when I _should_ have gone to you and said, ‘please leave me alone for a few days while I figure out how I feel.’” Yuri looked up, their eyes met, and Victor felt _seen_ for the first time since they’d left the Kiss and Cry in China.

“That would still have been frustrating, but it would have been better than…whatever has been going on since the plane ride,” said Victor. Everything in his head screamed to stay in the room, stay with Yuri, keep Yuri focused, keep that lovely attention on _him_ , but he made himself ask, “Do you need more time? Should I leave?”

Yuri hesitated so long that Victor put his hands on the armrests to rise.

“No,” Yuri finally said. “I’m still confused, but I guess…it comes down to one question, and without the answer I’ll keep going around in pointless circles in my head.”

Yuri paused, collected himself again, and Victor’s hypothesized – _what is our relationship? What comes next? How will this affect our partnership as coach and skater? Who—?_

“ _Why_ did you kiss me?” Yuri burst out.

Victor frowned, baffled. “Because…I wanted to? And I thought you’d like it, too?”

“No – I know – I mean…” Yuri flailed for words and settled into a return frown. “I understand how little a kiss means to you, but what you said at the time suggests you _do_ understand how much a kiss means to _me_ , so…why?”

_How…little…_

_…_

_…what?_

There had to be something intelligent Victor could say, some question that would get him to the heart of what the _fuck_ Yuri was talking about.

“Huh?”

Or he could say that.

“And then you come in here and you understand the problem well enough to apologize, but still just…sit there,” continued Yuri, exasperated. “So you really don’t understand.”

“No, I…I guess I don’t,” Victor said. “You think that kissing you meant nothing to me?”

Yuri pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow at Victor. “Yakov,” he said, raising a finger, “Georgi,” he raised a second finger, “Yurio,” a third, “Minako,” a fourth, “Christophe,” a fifth, “Mr. Lambiel,” he lifted his other hand and raised a sixth finger, “Celestino,” a seventh, “ _JJ_ ,” an eighth, “that fan who asked for your autograph,” a ninth, “Makkachin,” a tenth, “that model you were dating…” He stopped, looked at his raised hands, and sighed. “Well, there’s more, but what’s the point?”

“I have no idea. Who…? What…?”

“I’ve seen you kiss more than ten people!” Yuri leapt to his feet and paced to the head of his bed.

“Makka’s a dog…”

“Not the point,” Yuri managed through gritted teeth. “So, yes, it _surprised_ me that you kissed me and at first I was happy and then I reflected and realized, all things considered, I should be _more_ surprised that you never kissed me before!”

“Not all kisses are created equal…” offered Victor. He hated the dopey smile on his face, worried Yuri would take it to mean that Victor wasn’t taking the conversation seriously, but he couldn’t help it. Yuri was _jealous_ , and flustered, and confused, and adorable, and Victor _finally_ had some idea what was going on.

“What does _that_ mean?” Poor Yuri froze before him, forlorn, hang-dog expression stretching his features, and Victor quelled a laugh.

“Yuri…” Confidence restored, Victor rose and cupped Yuri’s cheeks in his hands. Yuri’s expression grew even _more_ confused, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t shift away, didn’t avoid the touch, and Victor’s chest swelled with happiness. “I’m sorry, _truly_ sorry, that I didn’t communicate with you clearly before the Cup. I wanted to surprise you, wanted to make you happy, wanted to make _me_ happy…I wanted to kiss you so badly…I didn’t look before I leapt, and as a result I hurt you. I _never_ want to hurt you, but I _would_ like to kiss you again – again and again – until I make you see that our kiss was different, that _you’re_ different.”

“I still…I don’t…” Yuri stammered, leaning subtly into Victor’s touch.

“Casual kisses aren’t common in Japan; they are elsewhere,” Victor continued. “You’ve lived in the US – you know that – and—”

“There was nothing _casual_ about the way I’ve seen you kiss Christophe!” An edge of nervous hysteria made Yuri shrill and Victor’s certainty took a hit. But Yuri still didn’t draw away, still didn’t turn, still didn’t avoid meeting Victor’s gaze. Yuri was still giving Victor time to explain himself, and Victor would use every moment he had.

“I’ll not condemn you for not having past relationships, would _never_ call you out for inexperience, so why knock me for having a history?” Victor said mildly. “Some of those kisses you saw meant nothing; some meant a great deal, at least at the time…but that’s in the past. I’d like _this_ – I’d like _you_ – to be my ‘present.’”

“Present?”

“If that’s what you want, too…”

“…should I wear a bow?”

_…miles of muscled, toned flesh…that ‘come hither’ look on his face…hair slicked back, a finger caught teasingly between his lips…and a bright red bow tied elegantly around his dick, the only thing he’s wearing…_

Heat flooded Victor from scalp to toes and he swallowed. Yuri looked up at him, earnest but with something coy about his smile, and Victor tried to work moisture back into his mouth.

“Um.” _Very articulate. Great start._ “Be my boyfriend?” The words came as a croak, but at least they _came_.

“You really want…” Despite hesitation in his voice, elation lit Yuri’s expression beautifully. “You really want _me_?”

“Oh…oh yeah,” Victor nodded, couldn’t stop nodding.

“I thought it was just a kiss…” Yuri glanced away, dislodged one of Victor’s hands, vulnerability in every movement.

“It doesn’t have to be?”

“But I’m…and you’re…” Taking a step back, Yuri’s shook his hands before him, jittery as he tried to convey…whatever the heck he was trying to say…with a gesture.

“I can honestly say I have _no idea_ what words I’m supposed to insert to complete that thought,” Victor said, dropping his hands to his side.

“You’re _Victor Nikiforov_ , flamboyantly bi! Notorious bachelor! Serial monogamist! And I’m…I’m Katuski Yuri, a dime-a-dozen Japanese figure skater…” Yuri looked up abruptly, supplication in his expression. Victor still had _no damn idea_ what the supplication was. But he did know…

“You’re wrong,” Victor said firmly. “And I’m surprised, and hurt, that you’d describe me that way, _now_.”

 _What I love about you, Yuri, is that you see_ me _, not a media figure, not an icon, not a skater – or at least not_ just _a skater – but a man. Not a performer, not a public show – you see me as a person._

“Yuri, you’re one of the best skaters in the world, and you were before I ever came to coach you.”

 _And when you say things like that, I worry that maybe…maybe no one sees me as a person. I was wrong to think you the exception. And that’s okay. I can play the coach role if that’s what you need. I expected…I_ hoped _…for better from you, but…_

“You get lost in your head about skating, and your anxiety gets in the way, but that doesn’t make you dime-a-dozen. You’re easily the number one performer in Japan, and I’d put you against anyone on the circuit for artistic performance. You—”

Yuri surged across the scant feet separating them.

Yuri crashed into him.

Yuri’s arms wrapped around his neck.

Yuri’s nose slammed into his.

Yuri’s lips smeared wet over his cheek.

Shocked, Victor stumbled back, bumping into Yuri’s desk. With an inarticulate crow of triumph, Yuri closed with him, crowded him, tilted his head and managed to make lips meet lips. Heat and dampness and sultry-sweet air flooded Victor’s senses, stole his breath away. The kiss was awkward, sloppy, and was a wonderful, perfect, dream-worthy expression of Yuri’s enthusiasm.

It was one of the worst kisses Victor had ever participated in.

It was one of the _best_ kisses Victor had ever experienced.

Giggling, Yuri pulled away and dropped his forehead to Victor’s shoulder.

“Yuri?”

Victor hesitantly raised his arms and loosely encircled Yuri’s waste.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri managed breathily between chuckles. “I don’t know why I said…I _know_ you’re not a…a…Lothario or whatever…”

“…but you don’t know, or at least don’t believe, that you’re anything other than remarkable?”

“…not…”

“Look at me,” Victor ordered. Yuri shook his head, forehead still firmly on Victor’s shoulder, hair tickling Victor’s cheek. “Please, Yuri…” he said gently. “Would you look at me?” Yuri rolled his head to one side so that, when Victor craned neck, their eyes met. “You _are_ remarkable. And that’s not merely my opinion. It’s objective fact. I can produce the skating statistics to prove it. And off the ice…you’re dedicated, loyal, caring, hard-working…” The longer the list grew, the wide Yuri’s lips spread in a smile, the more his eyes glittered with happiness and unshed tears, and the harder it became for Victor to think straight – or queer – or think at all.

Yuri stared at him.

Right, Victor had been talking.

And now he was staring in awe at the clueless, frustrating, brilliant, _gorgeous_ man in his arms.

“Boyfriends?” Victor repeated plaintively.

Lips brushed Victor’s neck, painted a gentle kiss over the sensitive skin, and a pained, elated noise escaped him as pleasure burgeoned outward from the contact.

“I’d like that,” Yuri whispered, kissing him again. “I’ve wanted…” Victor shuddered; his eyes slipped shut and his head fell back and to the side, silent encouragement that Yuri enthusiastically responded to. “But you scare the crap out of me, Victor.” The declaration was at odds with the gentle kisses and Victor barked a laugh.

“I’m just a man…”

“And you think that isn’t terrifying?” Yuri’s next kiss fluttered over Victor’s Adam’s apple, the next on the cleft of his chin. “It’s _more_ frightening.”  Yuri kissed Victor’s lower lip, each contact between them more skilled and confident than the one before, setting Victor’s heart racing. “‘Victor the playboy’ is easy and…and safe…available to anyone who bats their eyelashes…” Yuri drew back and batted his eyelashes and it was all Victor could do not to snarl and throw Yuri to the bed. “‘Victor the playboy’ could even want dime-a-dozen Katsuki Yuri, if only for a fling, if only for the night.”

“Yuri—”

“I’d have said yes, if you’d asked for that,” Yuri breathed. “But just plain Victor, who sees _me_ , who wants _me_ …that’s scarier than center rink, short program, first note, at the Olympics.”

Yuri drew back and their gazes met.

Victor’s breath caught in his throat.

Yuri was looking at _him_.

“…yes, it is…” Victor whispered. “I’m scared too, Yuri.” Skepticism dimmed those wonderful features, but only for a moment. “But the chance at gold makes overcoming that fear and skating the short program worth it, and the chance of being with you, understanding you, being understood by you…that makes talking this out, being here with you, fighting through how scared I am, worth it.”

_At least it does for me._

Yuri didn’t move.

_I hope it does for you as well._

A slow smile broke like dawn over Yuri’s face, spread like joy after a flawless skate. Yuri closed the space between them once more, slow and deliberate, and brought their mouths together, shifting his head to avoid banging noses. Victor pressed into him, his lips working against Yuri’s, and Yuri followed his lead, imitated his movements, gave back everything he got.

“…my boyfriend, Victor…”

Victor _loved_ how Yuri said his name. Heat burst through him and his arms convulsed tight around Yuri’s waist, drawing their bodies flush. Yuri’s arms curled around his neck, over the back of his head, down his back. Yuri leaned into the kisses, leaned into Victor’s chest, so hard that something behind them on the desk fell over. Experimentally, Victor opened his lips, flicked his tongue out to skim wet along the seam of Yuri’s mouth, and with a pleased sigh Yuri opened to him like he’d done this a million times over the course of a lifetime. Words tripped through Victor’s head but to speak them, he’d have to separate from Yuri, and the thought of an inch between them was agonizing. So close, Victor could feel every desperate breath Yuri took, every clench and release of his splendid muscles, and Yuri’s erection was hard against his thigh.

_…my feelings for him are about so much more than the physical…_

_…but now that we’re finally touching, without the awkwardness of drunkenness and miscommunication, I want to feel him. I want to feel good. I want_ him _to feel_ everything _…after all the times he’s come off the ice beaten and bruised and exhausted, after all the times his body has seemed an impediment, I want him to learn, intimately, how amazing he can feel…_

_…but I don’t want to push too hard, too fast…there’s still so much we haven’t hashed out. We’re only just starting to understand one another, and—_

Yuri’s hips hitched against Victor, his dick rubbing against Victor’s leg, and Yuri burst a desperate, breathy noise into Victor’s mouth.

“Sorry,” Yuri gasped. “ ‘m sorry, I—”

“Shh,” murmured Victor, pressing into another kiss. “It’s alright.” Yuri whimpered, hips rutting forward again, and Victor slid a hand down his back, curled it around Yuri’s astonishing ass, and urged him forward. “Take what you want…what you need…”

With a fractured moan, Yuri surged forward into a sloppy kiss and thrust against Victor so enthusiastically that Victor nearly tumbled backwards onto the computer desk. Yuri’s kisses grew increasingly sloppy, messy and wet, landing on Victor’s lips, his chin, his cheeks, the scruff of stubble on his upper lip. Ragged breaths accompanied every urgent press of Yuri’s hips. With anyone else, Victor would have been embarrassed, uncomfortable with the obvious show of inexperience, but with Yuri…all Victor wanted to do was cradle him close, whisper encouragement in his ear, press their dicks together through the fabric of their clothing and rut until they both came.

Victor could spend a lifetime listing the ways Yuri was different – in and of himself and in how Victor felt about him – from anyone else he’d shared a bed with. And maybe sometime, he’d try. Yuri deserved to know how special he was, _needed_ to understand how unique and ideal he was.

“Vic…ah…Victor!” Yuri moaned, smearing saliva across Victor’s cheek, voice loud in Victor’s ear. Yuri shivered, shuddered, quaked, and Victor lay an arm along his spine, cradled his head, his other hand pushing Yuri harder into his stuttering thrusts.

“So beautiful,” Victor growled, nipping at Yuri’s ear lobe. “So…so _sexy_.” Another soft moan leaked free and Yuri went limp against Victor save for his hips, still working forward, still surging against Victor in desperate search for stimulation. “So _eros_.”

“Oooh!”

“I want…I want _you_ to want, I want to see you _feel_ , and _crave_ , and…and…” Heat blanked Victor’s vision, his cock twitching and leaking, as Yuri shifted and his movements rubbed harder against Victor. “I want you – want you to want _me_ —”

“Do – always did!”

“Want to hold you as you come apart, want to…want to…”

Victor’s head dropped back, Yuri panted and sucked and frantically lapped at Victor’s exposed throat, and there were no more words. He had to move, had to feel – he wanted for himself everything he wanted for Yuri. The computer table scraped over the tatami mats as Victor rolled his hips up and Yuri rolled his down and they groaned in tandem. Sensation and need compelled Victor, reduced him to base, basic desires – move, thrust, rub, rut, more, more, more, more, _more_. Yuri mumbled something, _want_ and _good_ and _please_ the only comprehensible words, but they were enough – Victor was desperate to comply – and he released his hold on Yuri’s head, on his back, to wrap both hands around Yuri’s hips and bring them together more forcefully. Yuri arched away from him, cold air flooding over Victor’s sweat-soaked shirt, and groaned, his voice as incredible as the rest of him, deep and hoarse. As one, they thrust…thrust…thrust…

…and Yuri whimpered and collapsed to the floor.

Concern swamped out Victor’s arousal. Shaking and shivering from the cold, from thwarted passion, he dropped to his knees, opened his eyes to see Yuri slumped on the mats curled into a ball. Yuri’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes closed, curls of hair sweat-matted to his forehead.

“Yuri?” Victor demanded, pulling him out of fetal position, tugging him into a hug. Yuri, to Victor’s amazement, slumped into the contact and _giggled_. “Yuri?!” Victor’d have thought he misheard except Yuri giggled again, quelled the sound with a snort, resumed huffing each panting laugh into Victor’s neck.

_Well, if he’s laughing, then he must be alright…_

_…but…_

“Would you—”

“Well…that was…that was mortifying…” Yuri managed. He pressed his face to Victor’s neck, the flutter of his eyelashes tickling Victor’s skin, the moisture of tears distinct from that of sweat and half-dried saliva left by uncountable sweet, sloppy kisses.

_Wait…mortifying…?_

“I’m…I’m sorry…?” offered Victor, baffled, hurt, arousal dimming.

Yuri groaned, a pained sound, a sharp contrast to the noises he’d made in the throes of passion. “ _I’m_ sorry. I just…we didn’t talk before we…but I couldn’t help…if you knew how many times…crap, can’t say…no…” Yuri broke into more helpless giggles.

_Wait…he went limp…he shuddered…he collapsed…he’s laughing…he can barely form a coherent sentence._

“You _came_ ,” Victor said with wonder. Yuri’s giggles sounded like sobs and through the haze of worry and lingering heat, Victor tried to think of anything reassuring to say. “So?” Well, that’d have to be good enough. “And what can’t you say?”

A couple desperate inhales, a couple noisy exhales, and Yuri calmed, stiff in Victor’s arms, but still _in_ his arms. Something something progress.

“Walls…hung with your pictures…used to…” Yuri shook his head; Victor could feel Yuri’s grimace pressed against his shoulder. “And now you’re really…” Victor ran a soothing hand down Yuri’s back. “I’m sorry.” Ideally, they’d finish the night cuddling in bed. Ideally, Yuri would touch Victor, stroked him, bring back that delightful glow the culmination of which had seemed so close moments before. Life was never ideal, though, and Victor reminded himself sternly:

They were in a new relationship.

Yuri’s first _kiss_ was only days ago.

Yuri was a virgin.

Yuri _was_ a virgin. Now he was…

_…mine?_

Yuri looked up at him, flush fading from his cheeks, pupils coming into focus as he blinked, and Victor smiled, suffused with pleasure more genuine than he could remember feeling in years.

_No, he’s not mine. I’m his, more completely that I’d realized or imagined possible._

Yuri’s blush returned, dyeing him crimson from forehead to neck.

_How did that happen? When did it happen?_

A tentative smile broke over Yuri’s face.

_Who cares?_

_It happened._

“There’s only one thing you should be apologizing for,” Victor said sternly. “I don’t care if you scandalized photographs of me by daring to masturbate in your own bedroom. It’s not news that you were my fan – I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t, if I hadn’t seen you skate _Stammi Vicino_. If you knew who _my_ teenage masturbatorial crush was…anyway.” Victor shook his head, shook away images of Brian Boitano and Scott Hamilton in all his bald glory. “As to…this…” He tried in a gesture to encompass the two of them on the floor; Yuri’s smile faded and he shifted, pressing his legs together, drawing Victor’s attention to Yuri’s crotch with body language surely intended to deflect such attention.

_The come in his underwear is probably uncomfortable…_

There was a dark, wet spot on Yuri’s pants.

Victor swallowed.

“This?” asked Yuri.

_Right. Train of thought. I was thinking. About something other than Yuri’s dick._

“This was good,” Victor managed, still staring. “Could have been better…” Yuri turned away. “…but it was good. And it will be better. In about five minutes.”

“Huh?”

Startled, Yuri turned to him once more. Victor grinned, took Yuri’s hand, and guided it between Victor’s legs. His erection was yet half-hard; at the first contact of palm over shaft pleasure flared like sparks up Victor’s back and down his legs despite the layers of clothing separating them. Yuri didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as he stared wide-eyed, hand cupping Victor.

“Please?” said Victor.

Stars flashed across Victor’s vision as his head slammed into something and bliss coursed through him. Struggling to reconstruct what had happened, struggling to think, he moaned as Yuri rubbed, rubbed, rubbed over his cock. The ceiling tilted over him, seemed to move and sway like they were asea, and Victor gave up on interpreting the how he’d ended up flat on his back. Yuri was over him, on him, touching him, pleasuring him – that was what mattered. There was astonishing, gorgeous intensity to Yuri’s caresses, to his expression, as in the zone as when he performed and as beautiful.

“Yu…Yuri!” Victor stammered, thrusting up from the floor to meet Yuri’s kneading palm.

“I’m here…Victor, I’m—”

His _name_ , in that _voice_ , damn, Victor was _screwed_.

In every sense of the word.

“Victor…”

Gasping, he arched into the contact as orgasm swept over him, swept him under, left him reeling. Meaningless time ebbed by before he brought himself to open his eyes, to smile dopily at Yuri, to get a pleased, gentle grin in return.

“Still…still mortified?” Victor said.

“Maybe a little,” admitted Yuri. “But I was embarrassed the first time I skated in public, and you know what my coach said would make it go away? ‘Practice and experience.’”

“Excellent advice.” Victor nodded sagely. “We’ll need a strict regimen.” Yuri laughed, and for the first time since the plane ride home from the Cup of China, Victor felt at ease. Everything would be alright. No – better – everything _was_ alright.

“Stay the night?” Yuri asked with a coy look up through his eyelashes.

 _Everything is_ awesome _, and getting better by the minute._

Speechless, pleased, suffused with the afterglow, Victor could only nod again. It felt like he hardly blinked, no time passing at all, before the light was off, they were both in pajamas, and Victor was sandwiched between the wall and Yuri on the narrow bed, uncomfortable and elated, his arm wrapped around Yuri’s waist. Too hyped to sleep, he kissed the base of Yuri’s neck again and again, though Yuri had long slipped into the even, slow breathing of deep sleep.

“One question,” Yuri mumbled.

_…or not asleep…I’ve got a lot to learn about him…_

“Anything,” Victor promised, conviction and affection evident even in the single word.

 _…I can’t wait_.

“Who was your crush?”

“Anything but that.”

“Spoil sport.”

“Every couple needs to preserve a few secrets…”

“You get one,” Yuri said. “If you choose to use it on _that_ …”

“Deal.”

The sound of Yuri’s laughter fading to even breathing once more lulled Victor, aglow with the hope for the days to come as he’d never been before.

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before kissing you,” murmured Victor.

“I know you are. I forgive you. You have my explicit permission to kiss me as often as you want from now on.”

_I’m so glad I came here._

_I’m so glad I took this chance._

_I’m so, so glad that I’m his…_

“Good night, Yuri.”

“Yes…it is…” Yuri sighed. “ ‘Night…Victor…”

_I love you._

Yuri’s hand curled around Victor’s, his feet drew one of Victor’s legs between his, and, entangled and warmed, they both slipped toward sleep.

_And tomorrow, we focus on Rostelecom…_

_…but not until tomorrow. Tonight is all ours – all his…_

Smiling, Victor tumbled into a dream, content to know that for once his real life was better than any fantasy his subconscious could concoct.

_…and getting better all the time…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!!
> 
> For all manner of random stuff related to Supernatural, MCU, Yuri on Ice, and other fandoms, follow me at [unforth-ninawaters](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> Oh and I have no idea what time of year they play football/soccer in Japan so we're just going to pretend it's the same as the skating season, okay? ;) (I don't care enough to research this. Sorry not sorry.)
> 
> Also...Minako! Stop putting Victor down! He has enough problems...


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